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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26502430">The Good, the Bad, and the Dirty</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/NekoAisu/pseuds/khirimochi'>khirimochi (NekoAisu)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>FFXIVWrite 2020 [15]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Final Fantasy XIV</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Canon-Typical Racism, Comedy, Erotica, Final Fantasy XIV: Shadowbringers, Final Fantasy XIV: Shadowbringers Spoilers, M/M, Male Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Miqo'te Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Multi, Named Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Other, Patch 5.0: Shadowbringers, Patch 5.0: Shadowbringers Spoilers, Racism, Smut, Specific Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 13:01:01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,821</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26502430</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/NekoAisu/pseuds/khirimochi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>He is a fan of erotica, had spent many nights as a young man in Sharlayan “studying” with his choice in dubious novels pulled out from underneath his mattress, but this feels so out of character that it ends up comedic. He is willing to bet more than that fictional pot that none of these authors have met Fahmi in person.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>G'raha Tia | Crystal Exarch/Original Character(s), G'raha Tia | Crystal Exarch/Warrior of Light, Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV)/Original Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>FFXIVWrite 2020 [15]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1906210</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>47</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Good, the Bad, and the Dirty</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>FFXIVWrite prompt 16: lucubration</p><p>I decided to make fun of myself and general FFXIV erotica because really, why take yourself too seriously when you can just have fun?</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>When G’raha Tia said he would have no issue reading and sorting the records that the Ironworks had been collecting during his slumber, he had not accounted for the sheer variety of things he would be given to work through. There are hand written accounts of major battles, typeset novels and memoirs about generals and loved ones, newspapers and flyers full of Garlean propaganda, and a frankly startling stack of things labeled “alternative fiction.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s the use for the label?” he had asked, eyeing the tower of tomestones and publications. The Ironworks hand, an apprentice by the name of Vareh, had shrugged.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not sure, to be honest. I can ask the seniors for ya?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That will not be necessary,” he had replied, settling down to work his way through the task. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They had left him be bells ago and he had only managed to complete registration and scanning of five </span>
  <em>
    <span>incredibly </span>
  </em>
  <span>droll journals. He likes to read and is more than capable of sitting down with a textbook to annotate in the margins for nights on end, but he is getting very, </span>
  <em>
    <span>very </span>
  </em>
  <span>tired of reading about war criminals patting themselves on the back for not being as bad as others. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He eyes the tall stack of red-stamped materials before giving into temptation. He snags the topmost book, the binding loose and well-worn to match the faded cover, and flips straight to the center. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“—and with a shuddering moan, the Warrior of Light spills himself again, the Morbol’s tentacles never ceasing their assault upon his arse or—“</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He snaps the book shut and throws it across the room, cheeks red enough to steam. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That—</span>
  <em>
    <span>that! </span>
  </em>
  <span>What </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> that?! Is that what they meant when they said “alternative fiction”? The Warrior of Light, his past friend and dear companion, having the time of his life getting buggered by a </span>
  <em>
    <span>morbol?!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The stack seems impossibly daunting, now. He gingerly grabs another from the top, a much newer-looking novel with embossing on the cover that reads </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Beastly Needs” </span>
  </em>
  <span>in red foil print.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He flips to the center again. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Zenos yae Galvus stares him down, large and intimidating enough that is makes his legs quake. By the time he draws close, the Warrior of Light has fallen to his knees, cheeks red and breath coming quick. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘What a simple beast you are. Does it fill you even now, the hunger to be dominated?’</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He unbuckles a portion of his armor, freeing his gargantuan prick—“</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>G’raha giggles in spite of himself. The phrasing is terrible, he thinks, but somehow that makes it tolerable. He sends a prayer to the Twelve that these never found their way into his old friend’s hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He flicks to the last chapter, reads the word </span>
  <em>
    <span>“whelped” </span>
  </em>
  <span>and decides that he has no want for further context.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He snags a tomestone and flicks it on, using one of the terminals to sort through the content within. He skips over the novels with raunchier names in hopes that he might find something reasonable among them. Something that doesn’t make him grateful that the Warrior of Light is not named. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yae gods,” he whispers. “I cannot believe these are all supposed to be Fahmi.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He finds something that sounds reasonable (</span>
  <em>
    <span>“Midnight Rendezvous”</span>
  </em>
  <span>) and starts from the first page, this time. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“The Manderville Gold Saucer is home to many activities and wonders. The best and most well-kept secret being how the VIP lounge is attended by the Warrior of Light.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>G’raha cannot disagree with that. He had listened to tales of his exploits in pursuit of MGP (and he wonders of Fahmi ever managed to get that strange flying chair he was always on about before his death), including that of his singular visit to the VIP lounge to discuss sponsorships for the Scions with Godbert himself. He does wonder what they mean by “attended” though.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He continues reading. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Adventuring is an expensive profession and can bleed your coinpurse dry with ease, but the Saucer is the best place to refill it. It is not too uncomfommon to catch him among the most regular of patrons, buttoned up to the neck and bluffing with the best of them. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>His luck ran out against a rather handsome gentleman of nearly twice his size, a patron with connections to the Monetarists in the Syndicate. Without a coin left to his name and no further chips to bet with which to make back his fortune, he intended to leave. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘And where are you going, sweetheart?’ his opponent asks, wrapping an arm around his waist. ‘I won the pot, remember? That includes you.’”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Fahmi would sooner have dislocated someone’s arm than allow them to touch him like that, ignoring how quickly he would have cut than man’s ego down to size. G’raha frowns, but continues to read. It seems more tolerable than that Garlean-made novel so far, but he holds little hope.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“‘I am not a woman,’ he replies, blushing prettily, ‘and you would struggle to find me pleasing.’</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It is a blatant lie, the type of thing told by maidens and storied virgins whose modesty proves more rigid than their corsets. He is compact and lithe, made of plush curves that cannot be disguised by his healing robes. His lips are even painted with gloss like a coquette, drawing attention to the shape of them when he deems to speak.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘Spare me your worry. I know a prize when I see one,’ his opponent-turned-master says, smirking. He waves to one of the attending Bunnies to bring them a set of Saucer attire. ‘Have you ever had a man before?’</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘Not outside of dreams.’</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>His smirk only grows. ‘I can guide you,’ he says, ‘but first you need to look the part.’”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>G’raha blinks. He distinctly remembers Fahmi saying he had picked up the Bunny Chief Set after a month of participating in the Fashion Report events, not because of someone feeling him up and holding his figurative leash.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He skims through the next few paragraphs and their lurid descriptions of Fahmi being stripped and dressed in one of the bunny suits, the skimpiness exaggerated further than should be acceptable for print. He distinctly remembers the cups of the top coming up at least a few ilms over the nipples, not barely covering them. There were fishnets </span>
  <em>
    <span>over</span>
  </em>
  <span> opaque stockings</span>
  <em>
    <span>, </span>
  </em>
  <span>not just one or the other. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And above all, there was certainly not a heart-shaped plug inside every Bunny on staff. Really, that seemed a bit far-fetched. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He is a fan of erotica, had spent many nights as a young man in Sharlayan “studying” with his choice in dubious novels pulled out from underneath his mattress, but this feels so out of character that it ends up </span>
  <em>
    <span>comedic. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He is willing to bet more than that fictional pot that none of these authors have met Fahmi in person.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turns the page and then another until he finds the start to whatever ridiculous sex scene passed for high artistry in—he checks the publication date… it’s from three months before the Crystal Tower invested in helf from the Scions. Interesting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sex scene proves moreso.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Between the exaggeration of Fahmi’s inexperience and softer characteristics, he can barely even tell that there was supposed to be a resemblance. There are a lot of Keepers with long, black hair and pale skin. Without his name being used all too often and his title being thrown around like cheap grain, G’raha can safely conjure someone else’s image to fill that space instead of using the person he knew. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“The Warrior of Light presents, tail lifting to show off the tiny knickers barely managing to cover the base of the plug, much less the voluptuous curve of his backside. ‘Please take me!’ he cries, worked up from being fondled while his master negotiated business. He moans when the panties are pulled aside, eyes going hazy when the plug is replaced with all fifteen ilms of Raen cock—“</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Fifteen ilms? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Really? </span>
  </em>
  <span>What is this, a DIY guide to reconstructing some poor character’s genitalia?</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“—before rolling back in his head. Other VIP patrons stop to watch, one even going so far as to ask if they could make use of him afterward. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘I’m sure this is nothing to an adventurer of his caliber. His arse is looser than I thought it would be.’</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘He’s a Gridanian Keeper, yeah?’ the same patron asks, seeming thoughtful. ‘They’re loose, those wenches. No reason why a pretty boy like him isn’t the same.’”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>G’raha grimaces. Terrible characterization is one thing, but racism is another. He wrinkles his nose and selects another novel. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“—he slams her against the wall, tearing her skirt to tatters before mounting her. It’s all the maiden can do not to cry out and risk feeding into his desire. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Seeker men in rut are dangerous, her mother had always told her, but she had thought that the Warrior of Light would not he so primitive.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He sighs. After the comment regarding Keeper women, he feels he should not be so surprised that some of these are just as terrible toward Seekers (and Fahmi’s odd eyes bouncing between slitted and round like a housecat is reason enough to believe that this is just another terrible rendition of his friend. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>How dreadful.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tries one more novelin hopes that maybe (just maybe) it would prove palatable. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“‘Welcome home,’ he says, smiling up at you. ‘I missed you.’</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You lean down and he gives you a tender kiss, apron dusted with flour and chocolate. You can taste some of the sweetness on his lips.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He flushes, tail thumping violently against the floor. That’s… domestic. Not bad. Just really soft and domestic. Like the family and lover he never got to have and sorely craves. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Nobody had believed you when you said the Warrior of Light was your husband. Some asked if he was more like your </span>
  </em>
  <span>wife, </span>
  <em>
    <span>acting as if his feats were all worthless now that he had retired to become a homemaker. He seems happy, though, and always greets you with a smile. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘I made dinner for us,’ he says, taking your coat and pack to hang them by the door. ‘Would you like to eat or bathe first?’</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘What if I just want to have you?’ you ask, watching as he fidgets and stutters just like he had on your wedding night. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘After bathing, okay?’ he asks, unable to meet your eyes. ‘I need to get ready for you.’”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He blinks. He looks down. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That… had an effect on him. Dear </span>
  <em>
    <span>gods, </span>
  </em>
  <span>it had an effect on him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looks at the rest of the fiction pile and decides that he may need a package of tissue. He could lie and say it’s for wiping up dust. Totally. Absolutely. Nobody would see through that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>(Who is he kidding?)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looks back at the novel he had begun and settles down for a </span>
  <em>
    <span>long </span>
  </em>
  <span>night of study. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>And then he had to deal with the horrors of at least five dozen painfully subpar novels just to find another tolerable story</p><p> </p><p>Twitter <a href="https://twitter.com/khirimochi">@khirimochi</a> OR <a href="https://twitter.com/TheHolyBody">@TheHolyBody (NSFW)</a><br/>Tunglr @<a href="https://kiriami.tumblr.com">Main</a> OR @<a href="https://ffxivimagines.tumblr.com">FFXIV Imagines</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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